


Meeting of the Minds

by kisahawklin



Category: Criminal Minds, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Author's Favorite, Crossover, First Time, M/M, Multi, Safer Sex, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-08
Updated: 2009-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SGA/Criminal Minds threesome crossover PWP with bonus Star Trek trivia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting of the Minds

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://gblvr.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**gblvr**](http://gblvr.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://silverraven.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**silverraven**](http://silverraven.dreamwidth.org/) for lightning quick betas.

"I don't see why 'going out' means going to a smoky bar with too many Federal Agents in it," Rodney says, and John's secretly proud of Rodney for the leap in observational skills it took for him to realize this is an FBI joint.

"Smoking isn't allowed in bars in DC," John answers, still scoping out the room. There are several clusters of people at the bar, in booths, chatting at tables. More than a few scream 'FBI.' "And 'going out' means going out - not sitting in a hotel room and watching pay per view until your eyes bleed."

"Do you mind?" Rodney says, leaning in to glare around John. John twists around to see who he's talking to and is surprised to see a kid at the bar. He looks young, maybe twenty-two, but he's sharp-eyed and Rodney obviously caught him eavesdropping.

"Sorry?" the kid asks, and his attempt at projecting innocence is pretty pathetic.

"Don't sorry me," Rodney says, complete with narrowed eyes and arms crossed over his chest. "You were eavesdropping."

"No no no," the kid says, putting his hands up defensively. He's a little limp-wristed, so it looks even more pathetic than his fake innocence. "Thinking about a case."

"Oh really?" Rodney asks. "What did Sheppard say about bars in DC?"

"This isn't DC," the kid answers, as if on autopilot. "We're in Virginia here. Technically, the bar could let people smoke, but Virginia is planning to ban it, so they probably decided to be preemptive about not allowing smoking in the bar. Did you know that the smoking bans are sponsored by..." The kid sputters to a stop like he's run out of gas. He's staring at John warily, so John relaxes his posture purposefully, throwing his arm over the back of the barstool and leaning away from him to give the kid some space.

"FBI?" John asks. He can't quite believe the school teacher with the mismatched socks is with the bureau, but he's sure as hell not a cop, and they _are_ just outside Quantico.

"Dr. Spencer Reid," the kid says, tucking a stray long hair behind his ear. "And what military branch are you with?" He looks John up and down before guessing, "Air Force?"

John raises his eyebrows. "Good guess. Colonel John Sheppard. This is Dr. Rodney McKay," he says, waving a hand in Rodney's direction. "But he likes to be called genius."

"Ha ha," Rodney says, but John knows preening when he sees it. Rodney's chin is half an inch too high. "Doctor is just fine."

John lets his head hang, covering his smile as best he can. Dr. Spencer Reid has got to be something of a genius himself, to have a doctorate at twenty-two. He looks the part, disheveled, a little nervous to be in such a social setting, expressive hands. John turns his head just enough to watch the kid's hands, moving not quite as gracefully as Rodney's, but with the same restless energy.

"You can call me Reid. It's been a while since the PhDs."

McKay does a double take at that. "PhDs? As in multiple?"

Reid nods and smiles a little self-depracatingly. "Chemistry, Mathematics, and Engineering."

"Three?" John says, elbowing McKay. "He's got more than you, Rodney, and he's a kid!"

"I had my doctorates by the time I was his age," McKay grouses.

Reid puts his hands up again, fingers curled so it doesn't quite look like surrender. "Not a competition," he says.

John highly doubts that.

"Care to make it one?" Rodney asks. John swivels on the stool to glare at him. A genius contest in an FBI bar isn't really what he was hoping for when he dragged Rodney out of their hotel room.

"Rodney," John growls in warning.

"Okay," Reid says, and John rolls his eyes and tilts his stool back onto two legs, out of the lines of communication, letting the geniuses hash it out without him.

"What subject?" Rodney asks, and Reid shrugs.

"Trivia?" Reid asks. "I usually do Star Trek, but if you-"

"You're on," Rodney says, and John shakes his head.

"Get a table," John says. "I'll bring the drinks."

Reid hasn't touched his drink and leaves it on the bar, following Rodney to a table not far from a group of people Reid waves at as he walks by. His team? Do the FBI have teams? He thought they had partners. He makes a note to sit so he can see Reid's friends (most of whom look much more like FBI agents than he does) and orders three rounds of shots.

Reid explains the rules of his trivia game, and Rodney waves his hand impatiently at the three facts per episode, not including the season and number and main plot points. It's too easy, until John realizes that it's not a drink-if-you're-wrong game, it's an everybody-else-drinks-if-I'm-right game. That's smart - Reid is, well, about as smart as he looks. He's probably never gotten drunk playing this game, but John knows that'll change tonight. Rodney's still caught up in the idea of winning by superior knowledge, not realizing he's going to get at least as drunk as Reid.

John smiles, leaning back easily and spending some time looking at the kid. He's got to be older than John thinks, at least twenty-five. He's oddly handsome, in a pretty sort of way. If he cut his hair and didn't dress like a college professor, he'd probably be beautiful. As it is, he's strangely compelling, with intense eyes and a sort of simple honesty about him. He doesn't seem like the type to be able to keep secrets, though neither did Rodney at first.

He keeps his eyes on Reid while he watches his friends at the table behind him. They're all watching John and Rodney more or less surreptitiously, so he figures Reid's got some good people watching his back.

They've already started, Reid taking his turn first. Rodney nods as Reid gets everything correct. Reid crows, "Drink!" and Rodney finally seems to understand the mistake he's made. It's not a big deal, they can walk to the hotel from here, and it looks like the kid has a ride home. The real problem is that Rodney gets horny when he gets drunk, which means he gets grabby, which means that John gets horny too. They're not usually exhibitionists - hell, most people wouldn't even be able to guess they were together outside their bedroom - but when Rodney gets drunk, all bets are off.

There are two lightning-fast rounds, Rodney and Reid spouting off more information than they need to, each trying to one-up the other. John gives his three facts and sits back to watch the boys drink. Rodney slams the shots like a pro; John knows he's not a big drinker these days, but he's pretty sure Rodney got some serious practice in college. Reid, on the other hand, doesn't seem to ever have had shots. He sips the first one, making a hilarious face with an accompanying 'blech' sound that makes John shake his head and laugh. It isn't until Reid watches Rodney knock back his third shot that he gets the idea, drinking the rest of his shot in one go, still with the funny face and exclamation.

They're tied, each of them having gotten their two questions right. Four shots is enough to get John a nice buzz. He's pretty sure it'll only take another two before Rodney gets clingy, and Reid's already smiling loosely in drunken good humor. Time to play dirty.

"Breaking the Ice," John says to Rodney. He's seen a few episodes of Enterprise, mostly on accident, but he knows Rodney's avoided it like the plague. If he's guessed right about Reid - and a glance at his smug expression says he's right - Reid's watched them all.

"We're not doing _Enterprise_," Rodney says belligerently, and before John can even get his two cents in, Reid is putting up a finger and disagreeing.

"We did say the entire franchise."

"But it's understood!" Rodney shouts. "That show is an epic piece of garbage!"

Reid's friends are all glancing over at their table now, mostly with indulgent smiles on their faces. John looks at the dark-haired woman - before Rodney, exactly his type - and nods his head with a slow smile. She raises an eyebrow at him before turning back to her drink. "Man up, Rodney," John says. "You've got thirty pounds on him. You can stand to lose a round."

The twinkle in Reid's eye says Rodney will be losing a lot more rounds, but John's got things under control. The geniuses may be playing drinking games, but he's playing a bit of chess, and he's almost got them set up to make his move. Rodney gives up and drinks his shot, and then turns on Reid with a vengeance. "Flesh and Blood."

"Season seven Voyager, episodes nine and ten," Reid says, and Rodney stops him before he can get any further.

"No, it's only episode nine. Episode ten is Flesh and Blood part two."

"What?" Reid asks, looking panicked and turning to John to make a judgment call. Rodney's a stickler for details like this, it's one of his least endearing traits. He's technically right, John supposes, so if he takes Reid's side, he's going to have to give Rodney something.

He puts a hand on Rodney's thigh, fairly high above the knee. "Rodney," he says, low, and Rodney turns to look at him, pupils dilating in an endearing Pavlovian response. "Let Reid have it. Provided he can tell us the rest of the details." He flicks his eyes up to Reid's, giving him a devilish grin.

"It's the one where holographs take on a life of their own, and the doctor decides to go with them," Reid says, and John's grin softens into a real smile as he remembers Rodney's aged holograph. The image of Rodney at eighty stayed with him for a long time after his time-traveling adventures. Just the thought of it makes John eager to get to his crotchety old age with Rodney.

Reid finishes his details and Rodney grudgingly admits he's right, so John drinks another. Rodney drinks his petulantly, and his telltale drunken flush is starting to appear. Pretty soon he'll move in closer to John.

Reid gives John "Our Man Bashir," which is one of his favorite DS9 episodes, so he's a little disappointed to pretend he doesn't know which one it is. He drinks his shot, feeling the world tilt a little as he sets the shot glass back down. There're only two shots left on the table, so he tries to stand to get another couple of rounds, but Reid beats him to it.

"I'll get the next couple," he says, with a smug smile. Even his smugness is brilliantly uncomplicated, and by far more endearing than Rodney's. John would bet Reid's been told he was special his entire life; he doesn't cling to proving himself the way Rodney does.

"Why did you do that?" Rodney asks, leaning in too close, but not lowering his voice. "You love that episode!"

John tilts his head just enough to give Rodney a nice view of the line of his neck, and waits for Rodney to let out the breath he's holding before leaning in to whisper, "I was thinking we might want to spend some more time with Reid, and he's as lightweight as they come."

John pulls his head back, raising one corner of his mouth in a question. Rodney checks John's eyes, and John smiles and nods at him - _yes, you read me right_ \- and turns to watch Reid ordering drinks at the bar. He's not smooth, but he's poised, and John can see the wheels turning in Rodney's head as he ticks through possibilities.

"Should I?" Rodney asks, not having figured out that Reid's already smelled his weakness, and Rodney won't even have a chance to fake it.

"Excuse me," someone says at the side of their table. John looks up to see the handsome guy from the table of Reid's friends. "I'm Derek Morgan, friend of Reid's."

John shakes his hand, nice firm grip, and introduces himself and Rodney. He knows they're being checked out, and he decides he's right about Reid's colleagues. It's good to have friends that look out for you.

"I've never seen anyone make genius boy take a drink yet," Morgan says, and Rodney puffs up with pride.

"He hasn't come up against another genius before, then," Rodney says, and John rolls his eyes so only Morgan can see.

"Two geniuses in one bar?" Morgan asks, and John likes him already. "I'm not sure the building can take it."

"Take what?" Reid asks, setting down the shots on the table and sitting down.

"Nothing, kid," Morgan says. "I just had to come over and see who could beat you at your own game."

"They're not beating me!" Reid says, his voice rising. "I've answered everything correctly - they've both missed questions."

It's good to see Reid's competitiveness. He's hidden it pretty well until now, but John's never known anyone with above-average intelligence that doesn't have a competitive streak a mile wide. He can use that.

Morgan nods a goodbye before heading back to his table, and John has the feeling he's read John's whole plan and several secrets John didn't even know he had. If he hadn't had a lifetime of dealing with shrinks navigating the waters of psychological warfare to get back on duty, he'd probably be more flustered. Reid's friends all lean in when Morgan goes back; they're having some kind of pow-wow over there. He hopes they aren't too overprotective.

John's pretty sure that there isn't an episode Reid doesn't know, so he doesn't work too hard at trying to trick him. When he gives him "Q Who," Rodney pouts. It doesn't last long, because between the shot he has to drink for Reid's correct answer and the shot he has to drink because Reid asks him another Enterprise episode, he's tipped over into touchy-feely. He scoots over on the bench, leaning in too close - especially with his whiskey breath - to whisper, "Non Sequitur."

It was a misstep, telling Rodney his plan. Rodney thinks he's helping by giving John an episode he doesn't know, but he's really giving Reid a huge advantage. John shrugs and drinks his shot, not even trying to come up with something.

They're slower with a couple drinks in them. Rodney and Reid have both lost a little of their typical nervous talkativeness, and there's a nice back and forth between them that John is pretty sure would surprise the hell out of anyone that's ever worked under Rodney. Reid's a fountain of useless information, going off on long tangents while Rodney thinks about what episodes to ask. John wonders if Rodney was ever like that, letting the landscape of his mind direct his thoughts, or if he only ever had time for physics and Star Trek.

Rodney brightens when it's his turn to quiz Reid, smiling smugly and saying, "The Ambergris Element."

John's never heard of that episode, and judging by the way Reid is looking at the small mountain of shot glasses in front of Rodney, neither has he.

"'S'not a real episode," Reid says, and judging by the amount of slurring, he's walking the line between drunk and debilitatingly drunk.

"It is," Rodney says, and slings an arm around John. John goes with it, settling back against Rodney. If he doesn't make a move soon, they'll be pouring Reid into the back seat of his team's car instead of taking him home. Rodney runs a thumb down his neck, and the only thing that keeps John from reacting is the way Reid is watching Rodney's hand like he's starving. "It's from The Animated Series," Rodney says.

Reid's jaw drops and he tears his eyes away from Rodney's hand to look in Rodney's eyes. He opens his mouth, but no words actually come out. Rodney throws his own words back at him. "We did say the entire franchise."

Reid's face falls, and John's sure it's about having missed a question as opposed to having to drink. He picks up the shot glass, but John leans forward and takes it from his hand. Rodney's arm slides down his back as he does it, coming rest at the small of John's back. "I think you've had enough, Dr. Reid."

"But I don't know," Reid says. "I have to drink." He reaches for another shot.

"Uh uh," John says, pulling the remaining four shots toward him with a sweep of his forearm. "We don't want to be responsible for obliterating too many of your brain cells."

Rodney dips his hand into the waistband of John's jeans, and that's his cue - it's time to try his luck. If Rodney keeps drinking they're likely to have sex on the table and if Reid keeps drinking, he's likely to be useless. "Why don't we move this somewhere more private?" John asks.

Reid's eyes narrow and he takes them both in, slowly looking over Rodney first, then John. "Hm," he says, leaning back in his chair, which makes him look even younger. John feels a stab of uncertainty.

"Hm?" John asks, trying to keep his voice low, but Rodney is nibbling on his shoulder now, and it won't be long before he's willing to throw caution to the wind and just take Rodney to the bathroom. "New experience?"

Reid smiles enigmatically. "Yes."

John hadn't really thought about the fact that the kid could be that inexperienced - christ, he might even be a virgin, and did they really want to deal with that? - but before he can rescind the offer or turn it into something less dangerous, a joke or a misunderstanding, Reid says, "Usually I'm the one cruising the couples, not the other way around."

John laughs, turning into Rodney a little, trying to dislodge his mouth before he creates a giant wet patch on John's t-shirt. "Come on, Valentino, let's blow this pop stand."

"One thing," Reid says, taking out his wallet and pulling out an elaborately scripted card. "Hotel name and room number." He clicks a ballpoint pen and hands it to John. John writes the name of the hotel, their room number, and both their names on the back of the card. He doesn't think even the FBI can hack into the SGC, and Rodney's written some of the encryption on the Atlantis files, so he's not too worried about what they'll see.

Reid thanks him and takes the card, handing it off to the blonde woman with the pink streaks in her hair, and she beams up at him like she's a proud mother. Everyone at the table nods to them as they leave the bar except the somber man with dark hair that is the most obvious FBI agent in the room.

The three block walk back to the hotel takes away some of John's buzz. Reid seems to sober up a little too, though he's still slurring pretty heavily as he ticks off statistics about something or other. Rodney's bobbing his head like he's actually interested in what Reid's saying, which is pretty funny as John's pretty sure all he's thought about since they left the bar is John's ass, where his hand is currently resting.

He and Rodney have talked about picking up a third before but never done it; living in a closed society makes the risk too great. Lack of experience in this arena makes John a little jumpy, his need to put everyone at ease conflicting with his hyper-awareness of Rodney's possessive streak.

They're back at the hotel before John can make up his mind about whether or not to touch Reid, whether or not to reel him in with an arm around his neck or grab his hand. Reid doesn't seem to mind, talking away while he accompanies them docilely up to their room, hands flying away in genius sign language.

It becomes obvious to John that he might be more drunk than he realizes when he can't get the key card to work. Reid takes it from him with a polite, "May I?" and gets the little green light on the first try.

He pushes the door open and steps aside, politely indicating they should go first. "After you," John says, but Reid doesn't budge. Rodney rolls his eyes and stomps through them into the room grumbling about niceties being a waste of time. He turns and grabs Reid's tie as he walks by, pulling him into the room by the neck.

John smiles to himself, pressing in close behind Reid and pulling the key out of the door before closing it behind them. It's cold in here, and John would do something about it if he didn't have to leave Reid and Rodney and go all the way to the other side of the room. Rodney's cranked the air conditioning because he can't stand anything warmer than seventy degrees, and John just shrugs and burrows into him for warmth at night. John shoves Reid into Rodney and hopes the extra body heat will take the frost off the windows.

John maneuvers them all up against the wall with judicious use of Rodney's elbow as a steering wheel. He shoves a little too hard, making Reid fall into Rodney and Rodney fall against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him with a little 'oof.'

"Jesus, Sheppard, where's the fire?" Rodney asks, but without any real bite. He's watching John over Reid's shoulder, waiting. John's suddenly apprehensive about the whole deal, wondering if Rodney's simply indulging him, if Reid really is as experienced as he let on, if this is something he actually wants.

Reid's sudden silence is eerie, the lack of his nervous rambling making their combined breathing loud in the tiny hallway that leads into the bedroom. Rodney makes the first move, disentangling a hand from between him and Reid and running his fingertips over John's jaw. John's eyes go to half-mast automatically, and Rodney lifts one corner of his mouth in a half-smile. Rodney always touches John's face before he kisses him - John used to think it was weird, some girly thing Rodney picked up somewhere, but over the years the signal's become so ingrained, his heart skips in anticipation any time Rodney does it.

There's a tight knot of disappointment in his chest when Rodney pulls his hand away and sets it on Reid's cheek, but it loosens a second later, turning liquid and running straight to his dick as he watches Rodney kiss Reid with a single-minded determination usually reserved for life or death situations, really cool toys, or John.

John would be content to watch for a while, at least until Reid fumbles a hand backward, palm pressed against John's thigh, fingertips creating five pinpricks of pressure on the muscle. That jump starts John and he goes straight for skin, one hand untucking Reid's shirt and the other moving Reid's hair to the side so John can find a good place to bite.

"Whatever you just did," Rodney says, "do it again."

John felt it too, the way Reid's whole body went limp. Between that and the soft sigh, John's ready to get Reid naked already. "Here," he says, putting his arms around Reid's waist and steadying himself. He bites Reid's neck, closer to the hairline this time, and hauls back when Reid moans and pitches forward into Rodney. He starts working on Reid's belt and hopes Rodney gets the idea, because there's no way he's going to be able to handle the shirt buttons from back here.

Rodney slaps his hands away, making quick work of all the fastenings and catching John's eye when he finishes. John licks his two bite marks and pulls back a little before biting again. He pushes Reid forward into Rodney, gentler this time, and pulls off Reid's clothes, throwing them to the side before stripping himself.

He watches Reid and Rodney kissing for a while, Reid getting pushier and starting to pull at Rodney's clothes ineffectually. He's trying to use his height as an advantage, and that would work with almost anyone except Rodney, who's been pushing back at John for a couple of years now.

John steps back in, fitting himself behind Reid awkwardly. They're the same height, but Reid's all leg, and John's all torso, so John's pelvis is about three inches too low to get any good friction. He gives up, pulling Reid away from Rodney long enough to let Rodney undress himself. Reid protests as much as he can - which isn't much considering John's weight advantage - and John runs his hands over Reid's protruding hipbones to calm him.

He and Rodney had talked about this ages ago, partly fantasizing and partly working out logistics should they ever get the opportunity. John's never believed it would happen, and certainly not with a man. He has to admit that Rodney's inherent over-preparedness is going to come in handy here - knowing that blowjobs involving the third are off the menu because they both hate the taste of latex, that rimming's not an option because they're old and only trust each other, and that they both want the third person to be in the middle, and while John may know his own reasons for that, he's never figured out Rodney's.

John hopes that's okay with Reid, because the last fifteen minutes have him desperately wanting to press Reid on top of Rodney and taste the entirety of his long back. "So Dr. Reid," John says, rumbling the words softly into his ear, "you get to be in the middle, so you'll need to decide where you want us."

Reid stiffens at that, and Rodney looks up from stepping out of his pants. "You lied to us," Rodney says flatly, and Reid must be a terrible liar for Rodney to be able to tell.

"Not exactly," Reid says, and John starts petting him again, long strokes down his ribcage. Rodney crosses his arms and raises his chin, probably the only man in two galaxies that could do that naked and not look laughable.

"I've been with couples before," Reid says, turning his head to look at John.

Rodney takes Reid's chin in his hand and forces him to look Rodney in the eyes. "But?"

Reid swallows audibly, and John moves one hand to Reid's back, running his fingers softly down Reid's back to his ass. Reid stiffens even further. _Shit._

"But I've never gone home with two guys," Reid says, and launches into the statistics that must be his verbal defense mechanism.

Rodney cuts across him with a loud 'shh!' "You've been with at least one guy before?"

"Of course," Reid says, but it still feels like he's leaving something out.

"Only the guys in the straight couples," John says, and Reid's head drops.

"I'm kind of non-threatening," Reid says, laughing a little mournfully. "So I can get them to take me home, but I can't actually get them to come anywhere near me."

"That means me," Rodney crows, and John sighs.

"What?" Reid asks, and there are times John's pleased that Rodney can talk to a brick wall because he has no interest in explaining this to anyone.

"It means you get to fuck me because Sheppard's a tightass." He beams at John like he's won the lottery.

"You never _let_ me," John says, low and threatening over Reid's shoulder. "Christ, if you would just..." Reid turns around again, looking at John with obvious interest. "Never mind," John says, thinking better of airing this particular argument out in front of Reid. "It means that there's an optimal position based on our particular expertise."

Reid laughs and kisses John on the cheek, something so unexpected it makes John flinch. Reid leans forward, taking his body heat with him, and John can feel his skin tightening in the cool air. "Sorry," Reid says, turning back to face Rodney. "I didn't realize that wasn't allowed."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rodney says. "Sheppard's being a prude. He doesn't kiss anybody except me."

John opens his mouth to protest, but he doesn't have a leg to stand on. He hasn't kissed anybody else since he and Rodney started... No, wait. "I kissed Larrin," John says, pleased to at least have one name to fall back on.

"And then she shot you," Rodney answers. "Not your best showing."

John sighs again, and pulls a surprised Reid around by the shoulder. He doesn't have Rodney's finesse, but he's always been eager, and Reid tilts his head easily to meet John halfway. He's sweet, something that's more Rodney's specialty - his experiences are pretty broad, where John's tend toward aggressive, determined women who know what they want. And Rodney, who's exactly like that but without the breasts.

Reid's not shy for long, bringing his hands up to John's face and cupping it with his palms, rubbing his thumb along John's cheekbone. It makes John feel like a bull in a china shop, like he's missing some intricate mating ritual that he should have learned back in high school.

Rodney's taught him a little about slowing down and enjoying things for their own sake, but he's taught Rodney a little something about taking things full tilt, so he grabs Reid's shoulders, shoves him back hard against Rodney, and attacks his mouth. He gets one of Reid's legs between his, and finally gets a little of the friction he was looking for.

Reid grabs onto his shoulders tightly and bucks his hips up, rubbing his dick up John's belly. This is better - they've moved from careful tiptoeing around each other to a pulsing grind, hands everywhere. He can feel Rodney moving on the other side of Reid, his hips shoving Reid forward into John.

John grins; his favorite pastime over the last couple of months has been bringing Rodney to orgasm within a couple of minutes, and then spending another couple of hours fucking him until he can come again. He's always completely wiped out afterward, which means he sleeps like the dead and John doesn't wake up to the tap-tap-tap and soft blue light of the laptop in the middle of the night.

John breaks off his kiss with Reid, pushes him to the side, and slides down to the floor, sucking Rodney's dick into his mouth in one fluid motion. Rodney's hands move right into his hair, and he can hear Reid's surprised inhalation. He flails a hand to the side, waving it around until he catches Reid's calf and pulls him back in.

John goes straight into Rodney's favorites, heavy-duty suction, his free hand rolling Rodney's balls lightly. Rodney leans back against the wall, his hands gripping and releasing John's scalp rhythmically.

John runs his hand up Reid's leg and sweeps it outward, catching his forearm with a lucky guess. He slides his hand down to Reid's wrist and pulls him forward with a quick yank. Reid moves less reluctantly than John expects, and John can feel his body heat as his legs press up against John's right side. He moves Reid's hand to Rodney's belly and slides it up to Rodney's nipples, and Reid seems to get the picture, from the deep groan Rodney lets out.

John gets lost in the rhythm of sucking Rodney's cock and loses all sense of what's going on outside of the blowjob - a testament to Reid's non-threatening status. It only takes a few minutes to get Rodney wound up and when John glances up and sees Rodney and Reid kissing again, he knows why. Rodney has one of the worst oral fixations John's ever seen.

Just after Rodney comes, he brings his hand down under John's chin, sweeping his fingertips across John's stubble. Sometimes he hates how tender Rodney is, it makes him feel vulnerable at the stupidest times - when he's flying or shooting or fighting. He closes his eyes, squeezes Rodney's hand and bites Rodney's hipbone before getting up much less gracefully than he got down.

Reid grabs his arm and pulls up on it, which doesn't help so much as throw him off balance. He's surprised he doesn't end up falling back on his ass and taking Reid with him. Rodney's leaning against the wall, laughing at him, which is annoying, since John knows damn well Rodney can't move because his legs won't hold him up.

To get back at him, he shoves Reid toward the nearest bed, tackling him onto it when they get close enough, and setting to work at biting every inch of his chest. Reid doesn't seem to be able to do much except lie there and moan, so John crawls all over him, biting whatever skin is on the way. He glances up at Rodney, who is scowling pretty fiercely. John grins and licks a stripe up Reid's neck.

"You're a bastard," Rodney says, and Reid looks over at him, confused.

"Having trouble?" John asks innocently. "I could carry you, if you want."

John's done it, first as a joke, and later as proof that Rodney wasn't too heavy. He's solid, yes, but he's not fat, and he has no idea where Rodney got that idea, but John's happy to disabuse him of it as often as possible.

"Ha ha."

John shrugs and bites a wide circle around one of Reid's nipples. He bucks upward, smooshing John's face into his chest. Rodney laughs, and John makes an ugly face at him before he changes tactics. He rustles around in the drawer of the nailed-to-the-wall shelf that serves for a nightstand and grabs the lube before yanking Reid down to the end of the bed. He bends Reid's left leg, planting his foot on the end of the bed, and shoulders Reid's right leg out of the way, popping the cap on the lube and coating the fingers of both hands as well as a fairly large section of the bedspread.

"Now pay attention, Dr. Reid," John says, "because you'll be getting a pop quiz on this later."

Reid laughs, coming up onto his elbows to stare down at John. John smiles reassuringly and grabs Reid's dick, which almost slides out of his hand because it's so damn slippery. It's enough to derail Reid, who flops back on the bed and tries to let his leg fall down. John's got him arranged perfectly, though, so he steadies Reid's leg with his free arm, careful to avoid coating his calf with lube. Reid's hips are coming off the bed, moving up into John's downstroke, and he traces a finger down to Reid's hole as he settles back down.

Reid stops moving, his body strung so tight it's vibrating, and John growls in frustration.

"Could use some help over here," John says, looking over at Rodney. He's still resting against the wall, and John knows he's good - at least where Rodney is concerned - but it seems like he should have recovered enough to move by now.

"Yeah, yeah," Rodney says, pushing off the wall. "A genius's work is never done."

He's walking okay, if a little wobbly, and he makes it to the bed without any trouble, so John figures he must have wanted to watch for a while. He holds out a hand and John passes the lube, watching Rodney pour it liberally on his hand. He leans down to kiss John on the temple before climbing onto the bed and curling up next to Reid.

"You have to relax," Rodney says, kissing Reid once before replacing John's hand on Reid's cock with his own. "Concentrate on how good everything feels, and let John in."

John waits, biting Reid's thigh when he starts to move too much. His left knee starts to sag outward, opening him up like those slow-motion films of flowers blooming. John watches as a drop of lube rolls down from Rodney's hand, down the crease of Reid's thigh and next to his balls, down his perineum... John is tempted to lap it up - it's cinnamon flavored lube, Rodney's favorite - and he stares at the droplet with intense concentration for a second, trying to figure out why he _shouldn't_ lick Reid there.

"John William Sheppard!" Rodney says sharply, and John drags his eyes away from Reid, listless and beautiful, spread out in front of him. "Don't you even think about it."

John rolls his eyes, wishing for the millionth time that he hadn't told Rodney it was okay to read his file, thinking it might be all right for him to know what was in there, what made John the man he is. He was wrong. As soon as he got hold of John's middle name, the full name reprimands were used for everything from coffee-stealing to princess-flirting, at least until Rodney got bored with the game and moved on to asking him nightly questions about his marriage.

"Meredith Rodney McKay," John answers, and cups Reid's balls, obliterating the lone drop of moisture in a handful of lube. Reid's breath hitches and Rodney seems satisfied, because he goes back to kissing Reid and stroking Reid's dick in a haphazard sort of way.

Reid starts to move again, stuttering thrusts of his hips and then sudden drops back to the bed, and John gets ready to make his move. He rotates his forearm, presses the heel of his palm just under Reid's balls and lets his fingers fall lightly downward toward his hole. Reid presses back against his palm and John lets his middle finger press a little. Reid gasps, but opens to him, and John moves his middle finger in and out, switching hands after a minute because it's hell on his wrist.

Rodney's doing a good job of keeping Reid occupied, but John's not really interested in taking an hour to get Reid ready for him. He crooks his finger, putting pressure on the wall until he can feel Reid's prostate. Reid twitches a little, at least until John gets into a steady rocking rhythm, rubbing his prostate on the upstroke and the downstroke. It only takes a few minutes of that before Reid opens for two fingers, then three.

When John stands to put on his condom on, Reid stares at him with wide open eyes, and Rodney's resting his head on one elbow, lazily stroking Reid's cock. John smirks, puts his condom on with less trouble than he expected for being covered in lube up to his elbows, and nods at Reid.

"Time for that pop quiz," John says, and Reid's eyes go even wider. "Let's see if you can prep Rodney while I'm fucking you slow enough to make your eyes cross."

Rodney smiles, dirty-like, and scoots up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. John's sure he's already calculated the best way for the three of them to fit on the bed with Rodney on his back. He spreads his legs, which makes Reid stop and stare, and John's glad he has something to focus on other than the smug look Rodney always gets when he shows off how flexible he's become. John could swear Teyla's been giving him private lessons.

John hands Reid a condom, figuring he should put it on himself since everyone else's hands are covered in lube. It only takes a minute for him to roll it on and throw the wrapper in the waste basket underneath the faux-nightstand, a polite gesture John should have expected by now.

"Get moving," John says, smacking Reid's ass, waiting less than patiently for him to crawl between Rodney's knees. Rodney's relaxed and amused, smiling benevolently at Reid's nervousness.

John's not sure getting Rodney off was the best way to start this thing - it's not a safe bet that Reid'll be able to hang on long enough for Rodney to come again, and Rodney's best recovery time so far has been fifty-six minutes, and that was only because John was blowing him and fingerfucking him simultaneously.

At this rate, it may take that long for Reid to decide to touch Rodney. He's on his knees, looking down at Rodney like he's Michelangelo's David, and while John understands, he'd like to get this show on the road already.

"Need some help there, genius?" He gets his knees in between Reid's and pushes them apart. It unbalances Reid, and he falls forward onto Rodney, catching himself before he goes face first into Rodney's chest.

"It's okay," Rodney says, putting a solid hand on Reid's ribs to support him. "Sheppard's a Neanderthal sometimes, but he'll take care of you."

Rodney hasn't called him a Neanderthal for over a year; he would protest, but Reid's on all fours in front of him, his ass shiny with lube and John has to take a deep breath to remember he can't just fuck Reid into the mattress.

John runs a finger down Reid's crack and pushes it in, making Reid convulse a little. Rodney's got both hands on him now, holding him up by his ribs, and Reid's not doing more than breathing fast and trying not to let Rodney take all of his weight. Reid takes his finger easily, and John coats himself thoroughly with lube, just to be careful. He tosses the lube on the bed, a few inches from where Reid's hand is trying, but ultimately failing, to hold himself up.

John moves in behind Reid, plastering himself against Reid's back. On their knees, they're a pretty good fit, and John looks at Rodney over Reid's shoulder - to check in, make sure this is still okay... and to make sure he can take Reid's weight when John bites his neck.

Reid whimpers at the first touch of teeth, and when John puts a little pressure into it, Reid's head drops like someone snapped a puppeteer's string. Rodney holds him up easily, and John guides himself into Reid's body by feel - it takes both hands, both knees, and more control of his dick than he's ever had to manage before - but it's worth it. Reid's wide open to John like this, and as soon as John slides in, he buries himself halfway without resistance.

Reid shudders but doesn't lift his head, and John presses in slowly, relentlessly. Reid takes him without a sound. When he's all the way in he releases his bite, but instead of Reid's head coming up, his body falls, startling a yelp out of Rodney. John's reflexes kick in and he lunges forward to wrap his arms around Reid's chest, and pull him back toward John. Rodney sighs underneath him, the shaky adrenaline-filled sigh John knows from too many near-death experiences.

"Sorry," Reid mumbles, pulling away from John unsteadily. John lets him go, trailing his hands down to rest on Reid's hips as Reid leans forward and rests his weight on his hands, one on either side of Rodney's shoulders.

John can't help pulling out and sliding back in slowly, his hands on Reid's hips at the same time strong and soft, like he was taught to hold a gun. Reid sounds like he's sobbing, which John would be worried about if Rodney wasn't watching Reid's face dispassionately, but with interest, like he's trying to figure out some new Ancient gewgaw.

When Reid's arms fail him again, Rodney's ready for him. He catches Reid, slowly levering him down until they're chest to chest, and tucking his hair behind his ears. Rodney's focused but relaxed, something John doesn't get to see too often.

John doesn't want Reid to get too invested in kissing Rodney, partly because it'll be impossible to get a decent rhythm going and partly because John's a jealous bastard, and if he doesn't get his fair share of the kissing, no one does.

John pulls out just as Reid is about to make contact, and he draws back with a surprised grunt. John holds him still - just out of reach of Rodney's mouth - and pushes in, slower than the spread of spilled paint, listening to the steady cadence of Reid's panting. "I can't," he says, and John stops.

"I can't concentrate," Reid whines, and John realizes he's got the bottle of lube in hand. He's doing pretty well to have picked it up without John noticing, and John decides to he'll have to try harder to make Reid truly incoherent.

He starts pulling out as slowly as he pushes in, and it only takes three strokes before Reid's whole body is trembling bad enough for it to mess up John's hold on him.

"John," Rodney says, and he's looking bored and maybe a little jealous, which brings John back to the land of the living.

"I'd say that's definitely an F," John says. Reid's still shaking, but now at least some of it is laughter.

"Maybe I could do a research project instead," Reid says, and that makes Rodney perk up. It makes John perk up too, so he shoves into Reid fast and sits back on his haunches, taking Reid with him. He stares over Reid's shoulder at Rodney for a bit, which John used to think would make Rodney preen, but in actuality makes him bashful. He's had to learn to control his shyness because John teases the hell out of him about his virginal modesty when he doesn't.

He really must be studying with Teyla, because he when he spreads his knees, they nearly touch the bedspread. There is no way in hell that can be comfortable. It is beautiful though, and John goes to his zen place while he watches Reid touch Rodney. Reid is shifting and moving now, and John stays still, breathing evenly and closing his eyes halfway and using every technique he knows when dealing with torture. It helps. A little.

It's not enough that watching Reid move his hands around, over and in Rodney makes John both fiercely protective and almost ready to explode, but Reid rocks when he's concentrating, which means he's moving up and down on John's cock just enough to make John's eyes roll back in his head.

"You ready?" John asks when he can't take any more, raising an eyebrow at Rodney. Rodney's eyes shift over to look at Reid and then back to John and he nods. He scoots forward toward the pair of them and arranges himself while John takes the lube and squirts a decent amount into the cup of his hand.

Reid's staring at Rodney like he can't look away and John bites his neck before grabbing Reid's dick and letting the lube ooze out between his fingers. Reid falls back and John takes his weight, releasing the bite and working his cock. Rodney frowns, but it's more of an _I don't have all day, Colonel_ frown than a _fuck off, John_ frown.

John lets go of Reid and pushes him upright, setting his knees up inside the kid's. John's mesmerized by Rodney's calves outside Reid's thighs and he stares at the angles of the muscles and bones. It reminds him of a sculpture he's seen somewhere. He's still jacking Reid slowly, no longer distributing the lube but waiting, thinking, trying to figure out how the hell the three of them are going to fit together.

Suddenly Rodney lifts his hips off the bed. It makes his position even more awkward, but he holds his hips up easily, like he could do it all day. If Teyla's almost-yoga lets him do that, John's going have to reconsider her offer to teach him.

It's easy for Reid to line himself up and slide in, and Rodney groans and closes his eyes. John's hips follow Reid's like they have a mind of their own, because of gravity as much as anything. Rodney's body is perfectly straight slope down from his knees to where his shoulders rest on the bed. Falling into him is easy. Forcing himself to come back out again is another story.

He pulls back, just enough to unseat Reid a little, and waits. He's not sure how long Rodney can hold himself up like that, but he's reasonably sure it won't be long enough to get him to his second orgasm without a fair amount of help.

Reid pulls out of Rodney and John stays utterly still, letting Reid fuck back onto his cock. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat, simple and shapeless. John lets him stay long enough to catch a breath before pushing him forward into Rodney again. Reid goes, and for a second John doesn't know if he should go with Reid or work against him, but then he decides - contrary motion will make best use of Reid in the middle.

He pulls out, almost all the way, as Reid finishes sliding into Rodney. He doesn't stop for even a second before he's pushing back onto John's cock, and John obliges him by moving forward, bringing them together with enough speed to jolt them both a little and make Rodney look up at them. John snaps his hips forward to get Reid moving forward again, pulling away as Reid pushes into Rodney.

John has developed a meditative mindset about sex; if he can get a constant rhythm going, he can go for hours, lost in the sea of constant motion. It's surprises that drag him out of it, that give things shape or tension, that give sex the bright moment that brings him to orgasm. Of course Reid is unpredictable. It stands to reason that it's a genius thing.

"Reid," John says, as Reid stutters back onto his cock again. "Reid, smooth. You have to smooth it out."

Reid nods, flopping his hair out of its place behind his ears. "Smooth, okay." He slides into Rodney easy as you please, but he's backing up onto John before he even gets all the way in. John groans. Reid's never even been with a man before, it's unfair that he wanted to be fucked so badly. If John had known, he would have insisted on Rodney in the middle.

He changes tactics - letting Reid fuck himself back onto John, complete with shudder at the end, which is sexy as hell, and John pushes Reid forward with his hips, so the two of them fall into Rodney with gravity leading the way. Rodney moans, straining his hips up a little higher. John drives them like that for a while, until he feels the shift in Reid's body, a tension that tells John he's not going to hold on much longer.

John drapes himself over Reid - probably too heavy for the kid, but he can't worry about it now, he's got other things to think about. Like hefting Rodney up by his shaking thighs, giving Reid the right angle to go deep, and watching for Rodney's telltale sign - his head falling to the side, like the tendons in his neck have turned to water - so he can take Rodney's cock in hand.

Reid wilts under John's weight, so he backs off enough to let Reid move a little, and as expected, he moves back toward John. They develop a stilted rhythm, Reid going backwards onto John and John driving them forward into Rodney before backing up for Reid to start the cycle again. Reid mutters a litany of 'fuck' under his breath.

Finally Rodney lets his head fall to the side, and John whispers into Reid's ear, close enough to bite his lobe first. "Grab his cock," he says, hoping Reid had enough presence of mind left to be able to understand what to do.

He does, and as soon as he takes hold, Rodney comes in stripes up his stomach and chest. Reid stops moving, watching as Rodney settles like water, the only thing holding him up is John, with a solid grip on his thighs. John grins, biting Reid on the trapezius and letting himself stutter through a couple of long strokes, hoping Reid's coming, because John is _done_ holding on, and three strokes is his absolute limit.

He crests the wave of his orgasm and rides it down, bucking up into Reid and letting go with his teeth because he knows himself well enough to know that he could do some real damage. By the time he can open his eyes again, Rodney's looking up at him with his ridiculously fond smile, and he can feel Reid breathing hard, so he's feeling positive about the outcome as he pulls out and lowers Rodney's thighs down to the bed.

Reid doubles over as he's forced to pull out, and laughs like it tickles. John laughs too and completes the disconnect by pushing Reid forward to land on top of Rodney. He steps back off the bed and throws his condom in the trash. Rodney catches Reid deftly, rolling him to the side so he's not supporting Reid's weight. He tucks Reid's hair back behind his ears while Reid struggles to get his condom off.

John leaves them to it, going to the bathroom and gathering some towels and washcloths to clean themselves up, if not the utter mess they made of the bed. He throws one of the washcloths onto Rodney's chest - the wetter one, so it makes a nice _splat_ sound - and hands another to Reid. They wipe off and throw the towels in the corner, and John considers ordering more towels before they go to bed, but his eyes are already drooping, and he'll never stay awake long enough for them to arrive.

Reid looks torn, and John shakes his head as he grabs Reid's arm and hauls him to his feet.

"Other bed, genius."

It's a king, definitely big enough for three - especially since he wraps himself pretty tightly around Rodney as punishment for his inability to sleep without the air conditioning cranked to polar ice levels.

Reid looks relieved, climbing under the covers and scooting across to make room for the pair of them. John yanks Rodney up by the arm, letting him pretty much fall onto the other bed and annoying him into getting close enough to Reid that Reid can share the body heat too. The last thing John wants is to wake up with a popsicle in the bed.

Rodney rolls onto his side, presenting his back to John, and John catches the light before he climbs in and curls himself behind Rodney. Reid tucks himself into a ball, trying to retain whatever little heat he had left over from the sex, and John whaps Rodney on the shoulder.

"Stop being stingy with the body heat," John says, and Rodney sighs and jostles Reid around until they're spooned around each other, Reid and Rodney and John, three peas in a pod, his ma would've said.

It doesn't take long to drift into a drowsy haze, and he's just about to fall over the edge of unconsciousness when he hears Reid and Rodney whispering.

"Thank you," Rodney says softly, and John can almost picture the strangely sincere expression Rodney's wearing.

"I should be thanking you," Reid says, following with a breathy laugh. "That was incredible."

John feels Rodney's ribcage expand with a deep breath. He's about to tell Reid something he doesn't like to admit - John knows that particular tell. "Well, John is rather amazing, yes."

The silence stretches out for a bit, and John could fucking kill the kid for not coming back with something to assuage Rodney's ego. He has no idea who gave Rodney his inferiority complex and his deep need to be appreciated for his genius because he thinks he's subhuman otherwise, but if he ever meets the person, he's going to beat him to a bloody pulp.

"Yes," Reid finally says. "John is remarkable. But that's not why I decided to come with you."

_Oh please, kid, please tell me you wanted Rodney,_ John thinks, careful not to add any pressure to the arm draped over Rodney's waist. It's tough, he wants to squeeze the breath out of him sometimes, envelop him until nothing can hurt him any more.

"I've met other geniuses," Reid says, and John really hopes this is going somewhere good. "But they were boring. They live in their minds. You move your body like a soldier - like you know what to do with it. I've never seen someone like us who does that."

John feels Rodney's smile in the way his body relaxes, and wishes he could thank Reid for that.

"Besides," Reid says, "intelligence is very attractive."

"I'd argue that point if I wasn't so tired," Rodney says. "Though if you really think so, you should probably know that John's got an IQ of 162."

"Really?" Reid asks, and John can't help the way his mouth quirks up. Rodney stiffens a little, and John's sure he felt the motion against his back. John squeezes him, makes him exhale squeakily.

"Yeah, really," Rodney answers, though he sounds pissy at not having realized John was awake. "And he's frustratingly determined to waste his brains in the Air Force."

They've had this argument before; Rodney knows John needs to be intelligent to do his job, but he won't admit it, and John knows Rodney wants him to stop being on the front lines of the Pegasus galaxy, but he doesn't call Rodney on it. It gets too close to the conversation he'd promised himself they'd never have.

"Shut up," John says, squeezing the breath out of Rodney to avoid further argument. When he hears Reid's soft 'ahem,' John says, "You too. Genius time can wait 'til tomorrow."


End file.
